


Look Me Up and Down

by ephemeraltea (temporarily_obsessed)



Series: Tin Roofs [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 20:36:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temporarily_obsessed/pseuds/ephemeraltea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason needs a tutor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look Me Up and Down

**Author's Note:**

> I feel a little mean for writing this.

When it comes down to it, Jason’s really not sure anymore if taking the “rehabilitation and private house arrest” option was the easier option. (Better is still up in the air.) Because yeah, there’s a solid roof over his head, protection, great food- all things he’s not too familiar with but could totally get used to- but there’s also things like, oh, constant surveillance, stifling rules, _the media Jesus Christ_ , Bruce Wayne in all his asshat glory… And, apparently, going back to school.

Jason hasn’t gone to school since he was twelve. That’s five years. And sure, he read when he had free time and his little hidey-hole was packed with paperbacks of whatever he could find for cheap. Sure, sometimes he’d gone to the library to look stuff up. But that doesn’t mean Jason hasn’t missed five years of education. It means he needs to be caught up, if he’s going to go to school- which, as Bruce had rumbled, “you’ll graduate.” Like it was the law. (Alfred had nodded, though, which meant it was. So.)

He _had_ gotten pretty far over the past months with Alfred, hanging out in the kitchen while the butler cooked and cleaned there, or the library when Alfred was doing other things around the house. Being filled in on things, asking questions… but there is still a gap, apparently. And then Bruce comes home one day, has a few quiet words with Alfred, and sits down next to Jason at the kitchen table.

Jason doesn’t look up, even if it is _weird_ that Bruce did that, because Bruce doesn’t sit in the kitchen. He never does.

“Jason,” and Bruce is using his serious voice so Jason only waits a little before looking up.

“Yeah?”

“I spoke with one of the counsellors at Gotham Academy-“ and Jason scowls because that’s where the rich bitches go, “and she was very impressed with the progress you’ve made-“ Alfred clears his throat quietly. “-and so I am I,” Bruce adds, “but in order to join the juniors next quarter she said you’ll need a tutor.”

_Held back a year_ goes unsaid. It’s sure been said enough already, though.

“A _tutor_?” Jason says incredulously. Some snobby college student with too much time on their hands getting in the way? No way.

“She even had some recommendations,” Bruce interjects. “Some students already at Gotham Academy. Perhaps your tutor could help integrate you into the student culture.”

Jason side-eyes his guardian and jailer because now he sounds like a brochure. Bruce seems to realize that and grimaces.

“Well. Anyway, I made an appointment. On Wednesday at ten, the tutor will be here.”

“Wednesday? Maybe I haven’t been to school in a long time, but I still know school’s on Wednesdays, _boss_ ,” Jason makes sure to put extra sarcasm on the last word.

“It’s the first day of winter break. He’s giving up his vacation time to help you,” Bruce says pointedly.

“And I’m sure the amount you’re paying him has nothing to do with that?” Jason replies, just as pointed. Bruce does his no-reaction face, which means Jason’s right.

“Wednesday,” Bruce repeats, stands, and leaves the kitchen.

* * *

“Master Jason, it is nearly ten. I thought you were to shower before the guest arrived,” Alfred’s disapproving voice washes over him from the doorway. Jason drops from the pull-up bar.

There’s a fine sheet of sweat on his body, visible on his bare back, chest, and arms. He’s a little ripe, but it is a still clean sort of sweat. Jason grins anyway.

“What, think the snob can’t take a little smell?”

Alfred gives him a look that does manage to make him feel a little guilty. Jason grabs his towel and wipes himself off; he puts some deodorant under his arms before slipping his shirt on. They both know there’s no time for him to clean up now.

The doorbell rings, making that even more clear. Alfred sends him one more look, this one of “I believe in you” and “good luck” but also “behave, Master Jason.”

He waits a minute, but Jason does follow Alfred. Quietly. He tucks himself into a corner in the entrance hall to observe as his tutor is let it- to get a read on him first. Alfred opens the door, and speaks in a voice that doesn’t carry to Jason, which isn’t too surprising, given he’s facing away from Jason, but he only hears the tones of his tutor in reply- not actual words, which is a little surprising. Huh. Maybe his tutor is quiet.

Alfred moves aside to let him in, and his moving reveals the kid to Jason. And it _is_ a kid, a short, skinny boy with dark hair flopping into his eyes and over pale skin. He looks about thirteen.

The kid looks directly at him and quirks a small smile. Which is weird, because Jason was still hidden. But apparently not well enough, because the kid approaches him and holds his hand out slightly.

“You’re Jason, I take it?” the kid says, and the smile reaches his eyes which are- okay, Jason feels stupid thinking this, but they are- very blue eyes. “I’m Tim Kyle.”

And Jason slips a bit out of his “hiding spot”- Christ, he’s not that rusty, is he?- and takes the hand in a too-tight grip. The kid doesn’t react- just shakes his hand normally. He subtly looks the kid over, trying to get a feel for him.

Young, short, and dressed in an oversized red sweater over a light gray shirt, jeans, and slightly grungy Chucks. A little bit preppy, a little bit hipster, and no match for Jason, he’s just about decided, until he realizes the kid is gauging him, too.

_Shit, well_ , Jason thinks. _Who knows what he sees in me._

They settled in the kitchen, where it’s warmer and cozier, at Alfred’s subtle suggestion. Tim drops his bag beside the table and sits gingerly before looking around. A faint smile, colored with an emotion Jason can’t quite pin, slips onto his lips as he surveys the room quietly.

“Right,” the kid says, looking back to Jason. “I think we should figure out exactly where you’re at so we can get you up-to-date with Academy curriculum. Ms. Francis seemed to think you were doing pretty well, so mostly I’m here to speed up what you’ve got done. Which is really impressive, by the way,” he added. “I don’t know if I could’ve done five years.”

“I doubt you could’ve done one,” Jason sneers, leaning against a counter and looking down at the kid. Christ, he can’t be a junior.

“Mm,” hums Tim colorlessly. “If you say so.”

_Christ, is he training to be an ambassador or something?_

“So I know that you’ve covered up to the Austrian succession…”

* * *

Jason really does try to hold off on judgment on his tutor, but despite the slender silver barbell through his left eyebrow, the kid (“I’m fifteen, actually, Jason, and it’s a little annoying when you keep bringing up that I look younger than that.”) is just vanilla and a geek.

He never wears anything to the tutoring except jeans and large sweaters; even after almost two and half weeks of tutoring, five hours a day and four days a week, Jason only knows that he’s on scholarship, lives with his single mother, and has a cat named Pond. The cat isn’t so surprising, because he does read as a cat person, but the scholarship- that gets his attention, and the obvious love for his single, hard-working (according to Tim) mother, that gets his respect. This isn’t the rich snot he was expecting to be working for the pocket money Dear Old Dad wouldn’t part with. In fact, he’s pretty sure Tim is building up his college fund.

Still. Nerd and boring, for the most part. Smart and not a bad sort, but boring. The hard-on he has for calculus is disturbing to Jason. The squirt’s passion for the German perspective between the wars is unparalleled.

However, that’s all entirely secondary to Bruce’s sudden decision to “test his skills” with the subtext of “earn my trust” on a drug ring circling the clubs. Empowered by a fake id and months of admittedly superior education in detective-ing, as Jason slips to the bar to get a beer- not to drink, but to blend in- the very last thing on his mind, among the swirling colored lights and shifting mass of bodies, is the absolute nerd that is his tutor.

Someone bumps into Jason, and he moves with it in the only way to keep his balance; he almost falls onto a slender body leaning against the bar, but Jason slips his hand across the person’s waist to steady himself.

“God, I’m so sorry,” Jason says, pulling away as soon as possible. The waist is warm, a tee clinging to it just a little damply from sweat, and as nice a waist as it is, Jason figures there’s more than enough unconsented touching going on in Gotham- hell, in this club alone. “Somone bumped me- sorry.”

“Well, I have to admit that I’ve had a lot worse with a lot less ap- Jason,” says the boy, turning around, blue eyes alighting and a smirk lining his face. “I didn’t think this was your scene.”

It is Tim. Tim, in jeggings that could have been painted on and a shirt sweet with the results of hard dancing close to a concert of people. Wearing just a little eyeliner and those ratty tennis shoes, rubber bracelets lining one wrist and his eyebrow piercing glittering in the changing lights.

“Tim?” And yeah, Jason’s staring. Because holy hell, the kid was holding back and _how is he hot this does not compute freaking shit Tim?? His cute little tutor Tim with the oversized lumpy sweaters? How?_ Jason scrambles and clears his throat. “I think I should be saying that to you. How’d you even get in here- they card at the door-“

“Much the same way you did, I imagine,” Tim interrupts smoothly. “I hope you aren’t going to order anything on tap. There’s some question as to where it comes from.”

“You have a _fake id_?” Jason hisses in disbelief. “ _You?_ ”

Tim gives him an amused look. “It’s not like I spend all my time hovering over textbooks, Jason. Besides, I’m here for the dancing. Unlike you, I bet,” and there’s definitely a challenge in his voice. “Does Mr. Wayne know you’re here?”

“How about your mom?” Jason fires back as a distraction, using only half his brain because the other half is doing somersaults to try and wrap itself around this new information. Because he sort of did think Tim spent all his time hovering over textbooks or maybe reading Star Trek novelizations.

Tim waves his hand vaguely. “She’s somewhere, I’m sure. Warned me to watch my drink if I got one and it’d better not be alcoholic. What?” he addsat Jason’s incredulous stare. “It’s our type of bonding. Going to clubs, dancing. Sending nice girls and boys each other’s way for a song or two.”

“Has she sent anyone interesting?” Jason asks, mostly back together because he’s decided he can analyze this _later_.

“Mm. Not unless you were directed here by a tall handsy brunette in her early thirties,” Tim replies, his eyes sliding a bit closed. He looks like a sleepy cat. A _sultry_ sleepy cat. Wearing eyeliner.

And there goes Jason’s focus again, because he didn’t think Tim was gay. He didn’t think anything about it at all, except maybe once or twice idly admiring his hands or his eyes or his piercing. ( _That piercing._ ) “Oh,” Jason says uncertainly, and there must be something in his tone because Tim smiles again, sort of indulgently, and says:

“Don’t think too hard about it, Jason. I don’t. I just like pretty things, and so far their sex hasn’t been a sticking point.”

His eyes are still half-mast as he slides back into the crowd, his arms raising and his hips already rolling salaciously to the hot beat of the music. Jason stays at the bar, orders a beer on tap, and doesn’t drink it. Instead, he saves a sample for Bruce to analyze and leaves the club. It was an interesting night, for sure.

At least there isn’t tutoring tomorrow. God.


End file.
